Coming Out

“I don't know. I think I'm more nervous than the girls. They both look gorgeous. They're having photographs taken right now. I have to join them as soon as your mother comes. Chauncey and Felicia are probably already downstairs.” She wasn't looking forward to that.

She didn't tell Harry that she missed him, because she didn't want to make him feel guiltier than she already had. There was no point. It hadn't gotten her anywhere. She had a brief fantasy that he was in the limousine with her mother-in-law, but she could hear from the sound of Max talking in the background that Harry was obviously still at home. This was just going to be one of those disappointments that happened in a marriage, that she would have to swallow and forget. There were lots of other things he did right. And other than this, he had always been there for her, and would be again. This was one thing he couldn't do for her, and that she had no choice but to accept. There was no point damaging their relationship over a coming-out ball he wouldn't attend. She couldn't allow it to mean that much. She said good-bye to him hurriedly, left the room, and took the elevator downstairs. She was waiting on the street for Frieda, shivering, when her limousine arrived. Frieda looked like a dignified grande dame in her elegant black dress, with her hair swept into a smooth French twist she had done herself, as the doorman helped her into the wheelchair, and wheeled her inside. Olympia took over from there.

Olympia got her in the elevator, and up to the ballroom level, where the girls' families were gathering to be photographed, looking proud. The mothers were given corsages of gardenias to pin on their dresses, carry, or wear on their wrists, and the girls were given wreaths of tiny white flowers to wear on their heads, and bouquets to carry when they walked out onstage. There was something exquisitely virginal about fifty young women all dressed in white, with wreaths of flowers on their heads, carrying their bouquets. It brought tears to Olympia's and Frieda's eyes.

“They look so beautiful,” Frieda whispered to her, and Olympia was profoundly touched to see what it meant to her. She was the grandmother of their hearts. She looked at Olympia then and shook her head. “I'm so sorry Harry's not here with you. He's even more stubborn than his father. I told him tonight I was ashamed of him,” she said unhappily, and Olympia patted her arm.

“It's all right.” There was nothing else she could say. He had taken a position, and stuck by it, whether she was disappointed or not. Frieda was stunned by her daughter-in-law's generosity about it. She wasn't sure she would have been capable of it herself. She was furious with her son, for letting Olympia down. But before she could say more about it, a tall blond man in white tie and tails approached them, with an equally tall blond woman at his side. It was Chauncey and Felicia. Olympia introduced them to Frieda. Felicia said good evening to Frieda politely, Chauncey ignored her entirely while he greeted his ex-wife. In spite of the fact that she'd dressed quickly, and paid little attention to herself, Olympia looked spectacular that night. Chauncey looked her over with a practiced air.

“You're looking well, Olympia,” he said, kissing her cheek. She thanked him, and shook hands with Felicia, who looked silly in a pink satin dress that was way too low and way too tight. Olympia was startled to notice that she looked cheap. She didn't remember her looking that way, but it had been years since they last met. She hadn't improved with age. And she could see that the girls' unflattering comments about her were right. She looked foolish, and dressed inappropriately for her age. Olympia's well-cut navy blue satin evening gown looked more elegant, much sexier, and wasn't nearly as low cut. Olympia looked spectacular and dignified. Chauncey seemed to notice it, too. He put an arm around her shoulders, and gave her a hug “for old times' sake.” Looking at him, Olympia suspected he was already drunk. And Felicia was well on her way. This was not going to be fun.

“Where are our girls?” he asked, glancing around.

“They're having photographs taken with their escorts. They'll take some with us in a few minutes.” She felt like a tour director on board the ship to hell. Everything about the evening had become difficult, from Ginny's heartbreak to Veronica's escort's blue hair, not to mention the butterfly tattoo, or the events of the week, from broken ankles to chicken pox, cold, and flu. It had been an insanely stressful week, and standing there with Chauncey and his wife, Olympia found it impossible to relax. It would have been easier for her if Harry were there. Instead, she was pushing his mother in a wheelchair. She could no longer remember what stroke of insanity had made her think this would be fun. So far, it had been anything but. She just hoped Ginny didn't lose another glove.